DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR
Chapter 15
by Donny Mumford
It's the Friday night before Easter, 'Good Friday' to many around the world of the Christian faith. Chubby and I are eating alone in his condo; the moms are waiting tables at the restaurant as usual at this time of the day. Chubby swallows the last of his cheeseburger, then hesitantly goes into a disjointed explanation about something that isn't at first clear. He says, "Ah, Dylan... umm, I know we're suppose to hang out tonight, but... um, ya know, and it was just a little while ago that I said we'd do that; I was telling you how you and me should be doing much more stuff together too, not just tonight, and I meant it!" He does a fake cough then, like one of mine, and then begins talking too fast, like he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. "And I did mean starting tonight too, ya know, we'd rock out together doing something, like I said, but ten minutes ago I got a call from Mary Jo." I sputter, "What...?" and he continues, talking even faster, "Yeah, her... I had no idea she'd call! Swear to God! She tells me I gotta do some work for her father tonight. I mean, she's the one who talked her father into giving me the job for spring break so I couldn't very well say "no" to her father." I go, "Why...?" and he's like, "I couldn't disappoint him, or Mary Jo." I ask, "How would it disappoint Mary Jo? and he goes, "Well, um, I mean I couldn't disappoint Mary Jo when she asked me to go to a party with her after the meeting with her father. If I said 'no' she might complain to daddy. It sucks, I know! It blows even! I need the fucking money though; it's always about the money, ain't it?" He's looking at me with a pained, guilty expression on his face and I can tell he's sincerely sorry that he's backing-out on me tonight, but even though he's sorry, I'm still angry and disappointed which makes my eyes feel hot and I'm afraid they're going to tear up, and I hate when they do that! I need to grow-up, but when Chubby's involved I just can't grow the fuck up. It's like we're still kids running through Parker's Park together, always doing everything side by side. Chubby's such a dufus 'tool' when girls are involved too, it's not even all his fault sometimes; he get twisted around the girl's finger. He's probably on the wrong team with the girls anyway, and just doesn't know it. But, be that as it may, I've no doubt it's the manipulating Mary Jo who's behind this, so I take a stuttering deep breath, then say, "So, you and me are off for tonight and instead you're going to a party with Mary Jo... is that the bottom line? I mean, it's okay, money talks and bullshit walks. I know that." He's biting his bottom lip, looking distressed because he sees I'm upset. He goes, "Yeah, that plus I gotta meet with her father for a few minutes, at least that's what Mary Jo said." I mutter, "That bitch," and Chubby flinches, then says, "I know Robby's tied-up with his family this weekend, but you could check-out what Connor or Elliot's doing. Or Willie even." I stare blankly back at him until he mutters, "Sorry, bro.... really!"
Ha! Chubby's sorry alright, especially if he's mentioning Willie, who he doesn't like. I cooly and calmly answer him, "Willie's at prep school, he has graduation tomorrow, and then he's off to New York. Elliot's with his boyfriend, Jay, and Connor doesn't have a ride, and neither do I if you take the Jeep." Chubby looks like he's in agony, whining, "I need the money, Dylan... I gotta use the Jeep. I'm sorry, really I am." I look away, shrugging, mumbling, "No problem, I'm good, don't worry about me." He grabs my hand, saying, "I always worry about you, always!" I look back at him then, and I can't help but grin, asking, "Who do you love the most?" He talks fast again, conning me, "You, who else... it's you; then, down a bit on the list is my mom, then your mom. That's the very top of my favorite-peoples list, then it's a hundred spaces down before my friends start showing up. Fuck! May Jo's on the second page, maybe the third.
You're way the fuck above everyone, it's not even close, bro!" I'm like, "Could you go over that list with me again?" He smiles, then asks, "Um, the other awkward thing is... ahh," then real quick, "Can I borrow fifty bucks?" my eyes open wide, and he adds, "I'll pay you back as soon as I get paid for my spring-break job." I go, "Fifty bucks! What the fuck you need fifty bucks for?" He looks away, then back at me with an embarrassed grin, shaking his head 'no', like I'm not going to believe this, "Ahh, don't yell at me, but it's Mary Jo's birthday tomorrow and I gotta get her something nice... to impress her father, ya know. I want this job all summer too." I mutter, "Impress her father? Why don't ya buy him a gift then?" Chubby says, "Please, please, please, Dylan!" and I dig in my back pocket for my wallet, then take out the bills: three twenties, a five, and three ones. I look at Chubby, and ask, "How 'bout you get her a present for forty-eight dollars?" Chubby reaches over and takes the three twenties, "Best to be on the safe side, bro. I'll hit ya back... swear to God!" He gets up quickly and hugs me around the neck before I can protest, then a long kiss on the side of my forehead, which gets my dick moving in my pants. "I love you so much, Dylan! I can't even put it into words." I say, "Try!" he chuckles, as I'm saying, "For sixty bucks I need another kiss!" Chubby does an awesome kiss right next to my lips, and my dick gets hard. Coughing out the breath I've been holding during the kiss, I sputter, "Maybe ya better give me another one just to be sure," He laughs, and kisses my lips quick as a flash, mumbling, "I really do love ya to death, bro... you're the most awesome person I know." I'm groping my lap inconspicuously, adjusting my boner, saying, "Love you too, Chubby... and thanks for saying that stuff about me." He's in a rush now, "I gotta take a shower and I'm late, can you clean up the kitchen, please." I go, "You sure you don't want me to iron your clothes too." He's like, "Oh man, would ya? Can you iron that new Polo button-down shirt of yours? That'll look good on me." I yell, "Forget about it! I'm wearing that shirt tonight..." Chubby's in the bathroom by now though, and probably didn't hear me... he's only kidding anyway although, the truth is, I got no place to go tonight so I won't be wearing my new shirt.
Sitting at the kitchen bar eating the rest of the French fries from Chubby's plate, I'm thinking, "Jeez, he was so serious about how much he loves me, and that's sooooo sweet! Really, really sweet!" Even though I just saw a quick sixty bucks fly from my wallet, I feel good about Chubby saying those things about me, and Chubby's worth sixty dollars even without hearing how much he loves me... I already knew he did anyway. After I clean-up the kitchen I run down to my condo and get my new shirt, then back to Chubby's place to iron it for him. He'll be surprised. I hang the ironed shirt in his room where I see my three twenties next to Chubby's wallet on his dresser, and, what the hell, I pick the wallet up to check on something. Occasionally I like to take a peek at the two pictures he always carries with him: one is of his father, a beautiful boy who died at a younger age then Chubby and me are at now. And the other one is of me; it's
my high school graduation picture, and I look mighty cute in it too. I squint my eyes at the two pictures and see that even though his dad has a swarthy complexion and dark hair and dark eyes, there's a similarity between his father and me... weird!... hahaha. Chubby used to carry my middle school graduation picture around with him, but this current one is the most recent picture he has of me. Damn, I shoulda taken some of the pictures Philip shot of me... or, maybe it best I didn't! On the back of this latest high school picture I wrote, "To Chubby, we're brothers and best friends forever, and then a little bit after that too... love, Dylan" I have his picture in my wallet and he wrote the same thing on mine, except he put "love, Chubby" on his. I shoulda made him write something first 'cause he just copied what I wrote. I have such a love in my heart for him... it's almost magical, but at the same time it's totally for real. Our connection is like no other, and it makes me feel fabulous just knowing how special our bond is. No two boys are like Chubby and me, no fuckin' way!
I'm watching ESPN Sports Center on the little kitchen TV when Chubby comes out of the shower on his way to his room, his four inch dick swinging in the breeze. He's got a towel across his shoulders, his faux hawk haircut combed to perfection, and his awesome hairless, firm buttocks bouncing slightly with each step ... that boy is so beautiful to me. He has a toothbrush in his mouth and, talking around it, he says, "Seriously, Dylan... thanks for understanding, dude! I'll make it up to you." Then from his bedroom, he shouts, "Yeah! You're the best, you ironed your new shirt for me! Now I'll be thinking of you all night. Hey, maybe Mary Jo will invite you to the party too," and I yell back, "Yeah, and maybe the Pope's Presbyterian!" Chubby laughs his infectious laugh, calling back, "That's a good one!"
He's happy, so I'm happy, and I don't even care that he's wearing my little hoop earring when he saunters through the apartment a few minutes later saying goodnight. I kinda like that he wears my stuff. Oh sure, it's a pain in the ass sometimes, but overall I like it. He's out the door now, leaving a faint trail of Creed MI in his wake. At the window I watch him going down the steps as he's firing-up a Marlboro Light... he looks so cool! It's a weird thing to love someone the way I love him, and yet at the same time know I've got no chance, or very little chance, of ever fully experiencing physical love with him... very weird indeed. For some reason that thought leaves me with a feeling of apprehension; and later, with that apprehensive feeling still with me, Connor calls. It's like I'm physic. I go, "Connor, whassup?" He's not himself, he sounds very down-and-out when he mutters, "I hate to bother you with this 'cause I'm always bothering you with something, but...." I'm thinking, "Uh oh!" as he continues, "It's like I'm always asking you for favors, but you're the only one I feel comfortable asking." He hesitates then and somehow I just know it's not a sex thing that's bothering, so I go, "Sure, Connor... what is it?" He starts, then stops, and it sounds like he's crying so I don't press him. After hearing a few seconds of his quiet sobbing, I gently say, "You know I'll help you with anything, Connor... what is it?" He sobs out-loud then, before saying, "I know you will, Dylan. It's just that I need to be some place, can you drive me there and be with me?" I say, "Definitely... just tell me when and where." Connor blubbers a pathetic little, "Thanks," and I feel so bad for him, "What's wrong, Connor?" He breaths out a noisy exhale, saying, "Mr. Distefeno, my benefactor, had a heart attack and died a couple of days ago and I need to get to his wake tonight. I just found out about it fifteen minutes ago." Benefactor? What the....? I asks, "Benefactor, why's he your benefactor?" and Connor explains that Mr. Distefeno is the owner of the restaurant he worked at the last three summers. Connor was like a son the man never had... he has three daughters, but no sons. He's also the man who cosigned for Connor's freshman college loans. Connor says, "I'll tell you the rest on the ride to the funeral parlor, Dylan. Can you pick me up in half an hour?" I explain to him I don't have the Jeep, but I'll get us a ride, although it'll probably be longer then a half hour. He goes, "Oh, that's okay. The wake goes on until nine or so, thank you very much." I'm mumbling, "No problem," and he asks, "When we get to the funeral parlor will you go inside with me? I don't know what to do, and you always seem to handle everything just right." Boy, does he have me wrong. I'm a fuck-up, actually... but I say, "Sure, Connor, I'll go in with you. Um, I don't know what to do at a wake either, but I'll find out. See ya soon."
Holding my cell phone against my chest after saying goodbye, I'm thinking: first, check Google to find out what happens at a Catholic wake, then call Robby to borrow his pickup, then take a quick shower, and then when Robby gets here, drive him back to his house. After that, I'm good to go: I'll get Connor at his apartment for the ride to the funeral home and play it by ear from there... good plan! Hey, maybe Robby's right... I do know how to handle things. I call Robby's cell and Dodger answers. He sees it's me on the caller ID, and says, "Is this that sexy Newman boy trying to get my brother to fuck him again?" I'm not in the mood, so I simply say, "I need to speak with your brother, ya little maggot." He chuckles, then says, "You'll have to settle for me I'm afraid 'cause my big bro is with mom shopping for Easter basket stuff." I can't believe this, "You still get Easter baskets, from the fucking Easter bunny?" Dodger's indignant, "Of course we do, what's wrong with that?" I know his family is over the top with holidays, but maybe he's kidding... who knows, so I move on, "Dodger, I need to borrow you're pickup for a few hours. Can you drive it over, and then I'll drive you back?" He's like, "Sure thing, Dylan. I like doing you a favor, and I can sneak in a quick fuck for you while we're at it? I'll do you hard, just the way you like it!" I blow out a lot of air, disgusted that he has nothing but sex on his mind, then say, "As awesome as that sounds, I'll need to take a rain-check on it," and then I tell him about Connor's problem. Dodger says, "Jesus! Who's gonna cosign for his tuition next year?" and a chill goes down my back because Dodger's right about that; there's no one in Connor's family remotely qualified to cosign a big college loan, and the loans go year by year. Oh fuck! As if Connor doesn't have it rough enough already!
While Dodger's driving over I take a quick shower and then dress with my best clothes; which, in lieu of my new shirt, consist of an old blue button-down long-sleeve shirt, tan khakis, and loafers... preppy! I need a haircut 'cause it's growing over the tops of my ears, but I'd rather not have a Haircut-by-Robby just now, so I guess I'll just rock this scraggly look for a while. As I'm brushing the hairs off my ears the doorbell rings and I sprint for the door. It's Dodger, of course, and we do a quick hug and then a quick version of the kiss-on-the-lips that Robby and Dodger always do. "I'm allowed to do the lips kiss with you, Dylan, 'cause I've adopted you as my other older brother." I'm like, "How thrilling for you, little dude..." and Dodger goes, "Bull shit, I'm almost as tall as you and Robby! Forget that "little dude" stuff," and his arm goes around my neck so he can pull the side of my head next to his, an old trick of his, then he puts his perfect lips on my ear, to whisper, "Drop your pants and I'll fill your asshole up with my spunk real quick... it'll get your evening off to a good start." As he's saying that his other hand is grabbing my package. Dodger's like an octopus, I can't keep up with him; plus, he's got the 'Robby scent' going for him tonight, and his taut body is tight against mine... oh my God, he's such a delicious boy. I say, "You're too hot for me, Dodger... I don't know how Vinny survives the burn. But really, I'm kinda worried about Connor at the moment so I gotta let your wonderful offer of a hard fuck up my ass pass me by..." He squeezes my balls, and asks, "Who fucks you better, me or my brother?" I try to seem sincere, "Why, you of course," and he chuckles; then, letting go of me, saying, "Robby's so lucky! You're the coolest boyfriend ever!" I look at his face and see Robby there, and that's even though Dodger has brown eyes and hair. He's so fucking attractive it's sick, and I can't resist leaning in and kissing his lips. He kisses back, then says, "You cannot resist me! Can you?" I open the front door saying, "It's hard to do, Dodger, that's for sure."
Dodger drives us back to his house while spouting off a steady stream of humorous comments about life in general. I think he's smarter than Robby, more brain power, although Robby's no dummy himself. Still, Dodger's smarter and I don't detect the dangerous dark side in him that Robby's let loose occasionally, so they are different. Dodger's a hot shit, very funny and full of life, but he's a sweetheart too... a nice person underneath the BS, and I'm very fond of him. He says, "How 'bout lighting a cigarette we can share, Dylan." I ask, "Inside your pickup?" and he's like, "Sure, I'm not a prude about smoking in my truck, like Robby is." I go, "Okay, hot stuff," and light up, then take a drag and as I exhale a stream of smoke, away from Dodger, I hold the cigarette to his lips so he can take a drag. With smoke drifting from our mouths and noses we give each other a smile. I can feel that affection I have for Dodger returned to me, it's a warm and fuzzy thing. After another drag, I jokingly say, "This used to be Robby's pickup so my spunk stains are all over the inside of this thing." Dodger reaches over and takes the cigarette, inhales and passes it back to me, saying, "Yeah, I know. Vinnie and I have been all over this baby with a powerful magnifying glass... we've been able to identify a hundred and sixteen different ejaculation locations in the front seat area alone." Another drag, and I mutter, "Well, ya got a lot more work ahead of you if you've only found a hundred-sixteen spunk spots." Dodgers like, "Oh yeah, we figured that," and he looks over and smiles at me again. One last drag from each of us and I flick the butt off the side of the door frame which causes it to bounce up, and then back at me. Dammit! In desperation I swat it out the window with the back of my hand. In a monotone, Dodger says, "Smooth move..." and we chuckle at my return to spastic-ville. At his house I slide over to the driver seat; Dodger's standing outside the door, saying, "Be sure the tank is full when you bring this baby back, 'kay?" I look at the gas gage and see it's less than half full, "I'll bring it back with exactly the same amount of gas as you have in it now. How's that?" Dodger reaches up and takes my hand, and says in a serious way, "I was just kidding about the gas, you can keep the pickup over night if ya want, or bring it with you Easter for dinner. Hope Connor's all right. I only met him a few times, but wow, he's gorgeous!" I'm nodding my head, saying, "Yeah, and he's an awesomely nice kid too. Thanks a million, Dodger. Give Robby a wet kiss for me!" and I pull away feeling good inside for having a friend in my life like Dodger, and then think of the few sexy occasions he and I have had together... which of course, he instigated.
Driving to Connor's apartment I'm thinking about Easter Sunday. The moms need to work because the restaurant is booked solid for three different dinner sittings, which is good in one way... the moms can always use the extra money. Plus, they'd get fired if they refused to work on a busy money-making day like Easter. Chubby and me are invited to the Dickers for dinner, which makes me wonder what Connor's doing for Easter dinner? As I'm approaching Connor's neighborhood I hit the speed dial for Robby's cell phone again and this time Robby does answer. And, yes, he was out buying stuff for their Easter baskets, but instead of breaking his balls about being nineteen and still getting an Easter basket, I outline Connor's situation and ask if Robby thinks his parents would mind one more guest for Easter dinner. Robby calls out to his mom, giving her an abbreviated version of what I've just told him and his mom naturally says that Connor's more than welcome. Robby and I talk a little longer, but he cuts it short because he's caught the flu and says he's feeling like shit. My first thought is a selfish one, "Damn! Robby's sick... I was hoping for some one-on-one action with that yummy boy over the weekend," then I changed that thought to a more politically correct one, and feel bad for Robby, instead of thinking only of myself. Sick on a weekend is just the worst kind of luck you can have! I make the turn onto Connor's street and right away get this creepy feeling 'cause this is a scary part of town; plus, the thought of living here day in and day out for years is too much to imagine: the horror. There are always pods of tough kids huddled somewhere up and down the block and tonight's no exception. Six or seven rough looking kids in their middle-to-late teens are huddled on the front steps of Robby's apartment building; they're smoking, and drinking from quart bottles of beer concealed in brown paper bags. Whoopee! A hot time on a Friday night. Fuck!
I park across the street and call Connor to see what he suggests. He says, "Don't get out of your pickup and don't attract their attention. I'll be right down, I know how to deal with them." I sit tight fascinated that these kids live this 'existence' day after day. Gazing over at them from my position I see only one kid I'd consider cute, and he's too young for me. I'm guessing he's about fourteen... I mean, too young if I had any interest in him, which I don't. Just saying I think he looks hot with that awesome tan Hispanic complexion, and his short dark hair with his hairline highlighted and outlined with a straight razor. Man, he's got a great little slim body too, and he groping his privates while smoking a cigarette and trying to look tough... cute kid! Bet he smells good... ha ha! Damn, he just looked over and our eyes met for a fraction of a second... he sort of flips his head at me, turning his nose up, then says something to a fat dude who looks over at my pickup, frowning. Uh oh! But, no... they go back to their smoking and drinking and posturing... I'm a nobody to them and I guess, and they're too lazy at the moment to come all the way across the street to break my balls.
Three minutes later the front door opens and there's Connor with a blue blazer, white shirt, and tie... old sneakers on his feet. The hoodlums on the steps look up at Connor who, even though sad about his benefactor's death, is all smiles, doing fist bumps... good acting job. Two of the boys get up to crowd Connor up against the door, then one messes his hair while the other flips his tie, then jerks it hard making Connor's head bob up and back. Connor apparently is pretending this is all in good fun, then he goes into his pocket and pulls out some money which he gives to one of the bullies who's sitting on the steps; the fat one. The kid getting the money never even looks back at Connor, just stretches his arm behind him and Connor puts the money in the prick's hand. There's some more jostling and I'm getting hotter and stupider by the second. I climb out of the pickup with a fire burning in my head. Why are there always awful people and why do they always pick on good people? For some reason one of Robby's baseball bats is in the back seat of Dodger's pickup, along with a glove and baseball cap. I take the bat with me as I'm hopping out of the truck. Connor sees me and shakes his head as he's pulling away from one of the kids, still smiling and pretending they're all screwing around in good fun. Before I can cross the street he's running towards me with two of the scum yelling ugly sounding things after him... sounds I couldn't clearly make out except for "pussy" and "faggot"... or words that sounded like those.
Connor's all business when he's on my side of the street. "Please get back in the pickup, Dylan, and don't look at those shitheads. Put that baseball bat away too. If they see that they'll come running... they love a fight, especially if it's one-sided." I glance over and immediately one of the kids stands up and yells something at me, then gives me the bird. The cute boy grabs his crotch and humps it at me, yelling profanities. I hate guys like those bullies, but I ignore them and do what Connor said, and we're soon driving away. "I'm really sorry about that, Dylan! It's usually not that bad, but the asshole brothers are back in town." I go, "Asshole brothers?" He's fixing the knot of his tie, mumbling, "That's what everyone calls them, but please, can we talk about something else?" Up close I recognize the white shirt Connor's wearing as the one he wears to school... he has a blue one too. It's been kinda his uniform all through high school and now it's the same at college. His blazer is too small for him and badly worn at the elbows. The cuffs are an inch and a half short of his wrists, but the shirt, jacket, and khaki pants, fraying at the cuffs, are all clean and neatly ironed... by Connor, no doubt. Thinking about these things, I get tears in my eyes... tears of rage against those fucking animals outside Connor's apartment, and tears of rage that Connor has neither a mother nor a father to help him with anything... there's no one to guide or help Connor, and there hasn't been anyone all through his teen years. How'd he ever survive? And worse then having no one to help him, his mother's actually a burden on him. When she's not in rehab Connor needs to help her get through her hazy drug-induced days. Inconspicuously wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I mutter, "Don't know how you deal with that shit every day. Did you give that fat asshole money?" He shrugs, and says, "I'm not proud of it, but sadly I did buy him off. I've found it's easiest just to pay their blackmail money, or whatever they call it, then fight them, which I believe they'd rather do... it's only two dollars. Me giving them money's just a way to show that they're superior to me... they say I'm uppity, whatever that means to them." Holy shit! That gets my blood boiling and I think of Jake Rollins for the first time in months. He brought the shit down on Ricky and his father and it'd be awesome to have him do the same thing to those bullies. I can just imagine that motor cycle gang rolling down this street looking for trouble. Oh, fuck that! Jake's in Hawaii and even if he weren't I wouldn't call him. Plus, those kids are growing up in this horrible environment too, but why can't they raise above it like Connor has?
Glancing over at Connor as we sit at a red light, I'm reminded once again what an attractive boy he is with his almost white complexion contrasting against his dark blue eyes and dark brown hair... a complexion so pure and healthy and youthful looking it almost looks fake. Extremely complimentary facial features, maybe not as cute as Robby's, but more of a handsome face; a face with a natural innocent expression and upturned lips at the corners that make it appear as if he's almost always grinning and happy. He's biting his bottom lip and frowning now though, obviously hurting from the loss of his ex-boss and benefactor. I reach over and squeeze his hand, saying, "I'm so sorry, Connor," and a big fat tear forms in his eye as his lower lip trembles and he begins to cry silently. His dark-blue beautiful eyes shine behind his tears as he comes to grip with the loss of not only a father figure, but also the loss of his last chance to graduate college with his classmates... his hopes and dreams in that regard fade further and further into oblivion as the reality of it all sinks in with finality. I cried too but didn't let him see me, he'd turned his head away to look out the side window, maybe hoping I hadn't seen his tears, so once again I wipe mine away with the back of my hand, thinking, "I gotta be strong for Connor."
We drive in silence the rest of the way, except for Connor's monotone reading of directions to the funeral home; the closer we get the stronger Connor appears to be getting; he's rising to the occasion, I suppose. He's soon sitting up straighter with no more sniffling, and as I'm pulling into the parking lot of Ruggerio Funeral Home, Connor seems completely under control, muttering quietly, "These directions from Mapquest worked for once... usually they do more harm then good." I mumbles, "Uh huh," as we get out of the pickup I'm pulling my pack of Marlboro Lights from my pocket and then, holding them towards him, ask, "Ya want one, Connor?" He goes, "Oh, thanks," and takes one with only a slight tremor to his fingers. We light-up and smoke for a minute before Connor asks, "Do you have any idea what we do inside, Dylan?" I tell him what I'd learned on Google about 'Catholic Wake's: a wake is the first of three rites of Christian burial, the others being the funeral and then the actual burial. He asks, "Whadda we do?" I tell him about offering condolences and support to the grieving relatives, signing the guest book, and viewing the body. Prayers at the coffin are optional, but mostly done if you're Catholic. He scratches the side of his neck nervously, mumbling, "Okay, that doesn't sound too bad, except that part about viewing the body. Have you ever seen a dead person?" I go, "That would be a definite, NO!" Finished our cigarettes, Connor passes me a Tic Tac, then we head for the front door where a somber man dressed in a dark suit whispers a greeting as he opens the door for us. The funeral home is a large well taken care of building that probably was a private home at one time. Now it's an over-carpeted, hushed building with what must be the traditional funeral home smell. The air's thick with a mix of blooms, buds, and blossoms creating a deathly aroma unlike no other earthly scent I know about. The guest book is on a pedestal that another somber man in a dark suit is motioning us to approach. Connor exchanges glances with me and I nod my head in the general direction of the man and the pedestal, and Connor drifts over there with me right behind him. He stares at the guest book, reading what others have written, then signs his name, and adds, "I'm so sad about this," which I am too so I signed my name, and wrote, "Me too," and regretted it for being too smart-ass somehow, but we're walking away now and people are behind us so I'm not able to change it. What the hell, they won't know who I am anyway.
Another somber man in a dark suit jesters with his arm that we should go into another room, which we do, and there's the coffin. Connor gulps as, wide-eyed, I'm looking around the large room and see a big poster board sitting on an easel with many pictures attached... of the disease's life I assume. A number of people are gawking at the pictures pointing and whispering comments. There's also fifty or sixty people, in small clusters, talking quietly on the other side of the coffin... muted, sad music plays from hidden speakers in the background and, generally speaking, it's a gloomy and eerie atmosphere. Two older woman are kneeling in front of the coffin, apparently praying, and there are five other people standing in a row just before the coffin, like a reception line... the mourning relatives, I have to assume. Between them and Connor and me are a few people, so we wait our turn while the people in front of us say something to the family members. After a minute, Connor whispers, "What should we say?" I lean close to him, noticing for the thousandth time how attractive he is, his lips parted and moist, his eyes imploring me to tell him what he should do, and all I can think of is how much I want to kiss those lips. After two seconds, Connor asks, "What wrong?" and I snap out of it to whisper, "We're to introduce ourself and offer a few words of condolence. Those people are family members." Connor says, "I know who they are, the daughters work in the restaurant and the mother is the restaurant receptionist. The older man must be the grandfather, I don't know him." I go, "Okay, then you don't need to introduce yourself to anyone but gramps." We wait our turn and as soon as Connor is near the grieving wife she wraps Connor up in her arms saying how wonderful it is that Connor took the time to come, and how much her husband loved him, and on and on she goes, as I stand here awkwardly. It gets me to wondering if maybe the wife might cosign for Connor's sophomore college loans. After a moments hesitation, the daughters surround Connor too, patting his back and consoling him as he's started to cry again. I don't know why it should surprise me, maybe I just never thought about it, but these people are treating Connor like he's special; their concern and affection for him is so real. But of course, why shouldn't others see in Connor what me and my friends see in him? Of course he's popular, he's popular at school too. Weird, but this obvious realization makes me feel a little jealous... jealous that me and my friends aren't the only ones who love Connor; we need to share him with strangers too. But, on the other hand, I'm happy for Connor and maybe, just maybe, he can catch a break here and finish his college years with us.
After a bit, Connor breaks free and gets control of his tears so he's able to introduce me as, "His best friend!" I never knew Connor thought of me as his best friend, and hearing that brought tears to my eyes, which the family may have thought were for their loss. By way of condolences, I offer, "I'm so sorry for your loss," to each person in line as I shake their hand. That was Goolge's recommended response, short and to the point. Next up for us is the viewing of the body. Oh man! Standing in front of the coffin with Connor beside be, I take a glance at it, but look away immediately... it looks like a wax figure. I fix my gaze on the satin lining on the lid of the coffin, trying to keep my mind blank. Out of the corner of my eye I see Connor pat the shoulder of the body, as he's whispering, "Thanks for everything, you were wonderful to me, and I'll miss you very much," and he starts crying again. Okay folks, it's official, this is not a fucking fun-filled evening we're having here! Then we stand over with the other growing number of mourners on the other side. We stay an hour, talking with bus boys and waiters Connor knows from the restaurant... none are particularly interesting or good looking. Finally a buzz in the crowd signals that another stage of the wake is about to begin. A priest is organizing his notes on a pedestal, which Connor takes notice of, then glances at me, and says, "I'm emotionally exhausted with this, Dylan... would you mind if we slipped out before whatever this part is?" My eyes get big, like "Are you kidding me? Would I mind? I've been ready to leave for the last hour!" but I quietly reply, "If you want to, Connor, let's go."
Outside now, the first thing I do is take out my cigarettes and the second thing is I let out a big exhale of relief that the wake is over for us. Connor says, "Oh my God, that was rough." It's getting a little chilly and beginning to drizzle so we move under a portico to smoke. I wait a minute before asking, with smoke drifting from my mouth, "Ya think there's any chance the man's wife might cosign for you, Connor? They seem to love you, dude." He's shaking his head before I even finished, the breeze capturing the smoke streaming from his nose and lips and taking it away. "No, no, Dylan! I wouldn't even ask. It's different between me and Mr. Distefeno. I'm pretty sure his wife doesn't even know he cosigned for me, and I won't take advantage of my close relationship with her husband to weasel-out a cosigning from Mrs. Distefeno... I wouldn't do that in a million years." We argue gently about that while finishing our cigarettes, but he won't budge. As we're walking to the pickup in a light rain, I ask, "Well then, what are you going to do if you won't be going to college next year?" He says, "I'm joining the Army during spring break, doing it with a delayed departure date. That way I can start my Army career the day after my last freshman final exam." I stop in my tracks going, "Nooooo, Connor! No!" the idea of Connor Neary in the military scares me. He grabs my arm pulling me back under the portico to get out of the rain again, saying, "Yes! I'm doing it so I can get the Army to pay for my college. It's not the greatest way out for me, but it's a way. The only way I can think of that will allow me to graduate college; and anyway, I couldn't stand living with mother in that dumpy apartment for another summer, and certainly not year round." He's on a roll now, probably repeating things he's been thinking about ever since finding out about Mr. Distefeno's untimely death. He rambles on, "I promised myself years ago that I'd stick it out and graduate high school, and then join the Army... so it's not like it's a new idea. I met you and you helped me get to college and build my hopes up, which I should know better than to let happen. Just when things look good for me something always happens to ruin it, and I know that's a terrible thing to say, a terrible way to look at Mr. Distefeno's death, like it's an inconvenience for me, but I can't help feeling there must be something wrong with me, something I'm being punished for, something I don't know about." I've got my arms around him now, going, "Shhh, I know, Connor... life sucks sometimes, but people are leaving now, and they're staring at us." He's swallowing hard and I know he's attempting to avoid crying again. "I'm the one who sucks, Dylan. That wonderful man has done so much for me and when he dies at fifty years old I feel sorry for myself. And that just ain't right..." He pulls away, saying too loudly, "What's everyone gawking at, anyway?" as he walks through the rain to our ride. I say nothing because I don't want to delay, by even one second, us getting away from here.
In the pick-up Connor's contrite. "I did everything wrong tonight, said everything wrong too. You must think I'm a terrible person." Driving the pickup out of the funeral home's parking lot, I say, "Terrible person? You're nothing like that, Connor! I admire you! The way you've fought through an almost impossible home life to get through school, and with a smile on your face too. No complaints from you, no feeling sorry for yourself, and always with a grin and a joke to make everyone laugh. You're my hero, Connor... didn't you know that?" Glancing over at him I see his chin begin quivering and it's so obvious that today's unexpected events have really kicked his ass. He mumbles, "Thanks, Dylan... you, um... aw, you already know how I feel about you. And, thanks for saying that stuff. "No problem, Connor... you're awesome." He reaches over and squeezes my arm, but doesn't say anything more. He's looking at the window again, probably crying again too. I drive, thinking about how cute he'll be in one of those Army tan camouflage uniforms with the camouflage cap... the ones with green are okay too, but the tan ones are the coolest! And, of course, he'll be an awesome soldier; but then, oh no, I'm forgetting there are two war fronts going on right now, three if you count President Obama's politically correct army... an army where admitted Muslim extremist officers, haters of America, are promoted instead of discharged. Can't discharge him because he's a Muslim and that might look like profiling and piss off the Muslims. No, instead let's set-up a situation where this Muslim fanatic, this recently promoted major, a psychiatrist no less... I can't remember his name... is allowed to be the only armed man in a room full of young unarmed solders and civilians. The major pulls his gun, and while repeatedly shouting, "Allahu Akbar", kills or wounds thirty-two men and women; like shooting ducks in a barrel. Our president, to put it mildly, did not give the matter it's due. Right after it happened he address an assembly consisting of people belonging to 'a tribal nations' conference and, while fully aware of the Fort Hood tragedy, the president begins by giving a two minute shout-out to a couple of people he knows who are in attendance at the conference, after which he said something about 'he had more to say about the conference, "but, as you may have heard, there's been a shooting at Fort Hood" as if it was an inconvenience for him. His main emphasis of the announcement was that, "we wait to get all the facts before jumping to conclusions," that it's a terrorist attack from within. So this is why I say Connor's gotta be careful not only in Afghanistan and Iraq, but also during political correct meetings when armed terrorist majors are in attendance.
Oh well, I'm certainly not going to bring any of that up to Connor right now, instead I ask, "What are ya doing Easter, Connor? You're invited to the Dickers, ya know... it's where Chubby and I are having Easter dinner." He looks over, liquid shining in his eyes, seemingly excited about the prospect, "Really? Mrs. Dickers said I was invited?" I go, "Yep! Robby asked and she said 'of course'," and Connor's like, "That's so nice of her... I'd love to." Then I say, "Why not stay with me tonight Connor, we'll have a pajama party." He actually chuckles at that, then says, "I think girls have pajama parties, Dylan... not macho college guys like us. Anyway, I couldn't intrude on your Saturday, especially since I already ruined your Friday night." I start to protest, but Connor interrupts, "And, thank you so much for coming with me tonight, and driving me, and everything else... your support, and stuff like that, is awesome, as usual... and, you really helped me get through the wake 'cause I didn't know what to expect." I start to say something, but he interrupts again, "And, sorry to interrupt you, but I want to pay for the gas to night too. I mean, it's almost four dollars a gallon and why should you have to pay..." He's rambling, disoriented and more or less 'lost' at the moment. I hold my hand up indicating he needs to let me speak; then, keeping my eyes on the road, I say, "You're a little fucked-up in the head right now, Connor, and you have every right to be, but I'm taking over and making two decisions for you: one, you are going to stay with me tonight and tomorrow, and you're coming with Chubby and me to the Dickers for Easter Sunday dinner, it's settled!" He mumbles, "Thanks, Dylan... aw, thanks, man, you're the best. I'll do as you say, and don't worry, I won't beg you for some pity sex." I go, "Okay, no sex... that's a deal!" I'm glad to hear that actually 'cause I don't know if it would help him or screw-up his head more if we messed around. Wish I knew what the right thing to do is, but I don't, so I'll try to do nothing provocative that might make things worse... and as soon as I get a chance I'm going to check out that word to see if it even applies here!
We wrestle with the idea of going back to Connor's apartment for some of his stuff, but I finally convince him to wear my clothes and we'll stop at a pharmacy for a toothbrush, and whatever. He's lightening-up a little, asking, "Should we buy me some underwear, or should I wear yours?" I go, "Mine, definitely! We can switch underwear every couple of hours during the day, get sexy-nuts like that." He goes, "I'm getting a boner just thinking about it. Oh, by the way, what do you wear to bed?" I go, "Nothing, why?" and he's like, "I'm boned up good now..." and we chuckle, but we both know we're just goofing around, trying to forget the tragedy, and the wake experience. It's a relief that he's back to his joking self a little bit. Plus, he seems happy, excited even, that he'll be staying at my condo for a couple of days. We stop for his toothbrush and he buys a small 'travel-size' stick of deodorant and a pack of Marlboro Light, saying, "I'm always bumming your cigarettes, Dylan, the least I can do is provide the smokes." I just smile, looking into his eyes and seeing a happier boy then just a half hour ago. Why didn't I ever think to invite him over my place before this. Seems like the smallest kindness is huge in Connor's eyes... damn, he deserves better. Inside my condo Connor looks around, then whistles like our place is a palace. Wait 'til he sees Robby's house. I say, "Chubby's condo is above this one, but neither place is very special, Connor." He replies, "Oh, come on, Dylan! You've seen the rat hole I live in, to me this is spacious and clean and neat... and safe, mostly it feels safe." We grab Cokes and go out on the balcony for smokes, and even though I have my own cigarettes I accept Connor's offered one because he seems proud to be able to offer it. It occurs to me that Connor earns money working a part time job at school, just like we all do; so, where's his money go? I ask, "You saving your money for something special?" He blows out a long exhale, shaking his head slowly, then says, "Nah, I can barely make the meager amount of monthly rent we're required to pay for our assisted-living apartment. Mother spends most of her welfare income on drugs. It scares me... if we lost the apartment I'd be homeless, except for my dorm room." He says it all matter-of-factly, like it's no big deal. The more I learn about Connor's life, the worse it gets, so I don't want to know anymore; I feel bad enough for him as it is. Changing the subject, "Let me call Chubby's cell and see what he's up to. Maybe we can hook up." Chubby answers his cell phone sounding a little bit drunk. He's still at the party Mary Jo took him to, and even though he says the party sucks, he seems to be having a mighty good time in spite of that. Godamn that Mary Jo, she's got her hooks in my bro again... I can't stand her! I say goobye to Chubby, and to Connor, I go, "Heh heh... Chubby's gonna be a while. I'll see what Robby's up to, maybe he's feeling better," and dial his cell. His mother answers telling me that Robby's very sick with the flu. Head and stomach flu, meaning he's throwing up and shitting his pants at the same time, so I say, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Tell him I'm praying for his quick recovery," and this sets Mrs. Dickers off on a bit of a tirade about what a wonderful friend I am to Robby, and blah, blah, blah. She's very nice, but maybe just a little over the top, a bit too much... too much of everything, but she means well. She ends the conversation making me promise to have Connor come to dinner Sunday, so that's real nice. I tell Connor and it relaxes him a bit about Sunday; I mean, if the mother says it's okay, not once but twice, that's pretty much the final word on the matter.
Back inside the condo we watch a little TV while choosing clothes from my closet that Connor will wear tomorrow, and then we get ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. I tell Connor, "I don't actually sleep naked, but you can if you want to." He chuckles, and says, "I'm gonna do what you do," so we both pull on a pair of my pajamas, with me saying, "We're lucky I've got two pairs left, Chubby's always taking them." Then, pointing at my twin-size bed, I ask, "Would you feel more comfortable in my sleeping bag? The bed's pretty small, or I could use the sleeping bag..." he goes, "Oh, um... is it okay if I share the bed with you?" I grin and he quickly adds, "Don't worry, like I already said, I'm not going to beg you for a pity fuck or anything. I'd just like being close to you 'cause I'm feeling weird, vulnerable or something... and I'm sorry if that makes me sound like a wimp." I go, "No, no! You're not a wimp, you've never been a wimp. Come on, climb in bed, you first." I get in after him and to get him over any shyness he might be feeling, right off the bat I put my arm under his neck and hug him to my side, asking, "Cozy?" He gulps, then says, "Very!" In the dark we talk quietly about him going into the Army and it becomes obvious he's done a lot of research on this topic over the past year and a half. As he mentioned earlier, it used to be his "A" Plan for after graduating high school; that's until I got him looking at the college possibilities, but now joining the Army is back to being his best option. It seems he isn't afraid of getting killed in any of the numerous ways a soldier has of dying because, like most of us teens, we think we're bulletproof. In fact he's looking forward to finishing his freshman year at Merrimack and getting on with life in the Army. Boy, does that say volumes about what his life at home must be like. In any case, I'm so proud of him, worried about him for sure, but proud too. Before falling asleep he tells me the Army's tan camouflage uniforms are so cool looking, and a big reason he choose the Army over the Navy; that, plus he can't swim. I knew those uniforms had something to do with it! We fall asleep with our pajama clad bodies touching, but without touching each others boner. In the morning Connor is half laying on me, sound asleep. It's a small bed for two boys who are both over five foot ten inches tall. The saving grace is that were both slim. Connor's quite special to look at this close up, so I take advantage of that and, as my boner grows, I gently lay the side of my face against his. This wakes him up, mumbling, "Where am I?" Then, seeing me, "Oh, yeah," and a sweet smile before saying, "Morning, Dylan." I rustle around a little to get on my side facing him, "How'd ya sleep, Connor?" He grins, and says, "The best night's sleep I've ever had. Right now though, my dick's as hard as a flagpole! That's 'cause you're so sexy Dylan." I go, "You too, dude," and rub his shoulder. He looks me in the eyes, and says, "Um, would you get freaked-out if I jerked myself off?" I go, " No, of course not... or better yet, let me do it for you." Oooh, did I actually say that?
Connor's excited, "Really? How... I mean, what...?" I say, "Umm, well, let's get out of bed," and when we're both standing there next to the bed, Connor looking at me with anticipation in his eyes, I lean over and pull his pajama bottoms down and he steps out of them; then, for a second or two I stare at his stiffy as it bobs up and down; a real nice five inch penis surrounded by a modest pubic patch of silky dark curly hairs. His cock is as pale as his complexion, except for the head which is as rosy as his lips. I like sucking my friends cocks, so I purpose, "If you'd like, I can suck you off," and my dick moves in my pajamas, bulging out the front, as I'm saying it. He tries to say something, but whatever it was sticks in his throat, then he manages to say, "I don't know what I'm doing, in my fantasies it's easy, but in real life I'm extremely nervous about it." I gently reach over and rub his shoulder, then quietly say, "Sure, I understand... another time for that. Here, turn around and I'll show you a cool way I can jerk you off." He's blushing like crazy, but I just know he wants to have some kind of buddy sex, and very badly too; he's just totally unsure of himself. I don't have it in me to be aggressive like Carl Denton was with me, it's not my nature or I'd just take over like Carl did... he didn't ask what I wanted, he did what he wanted and now I'm glad he did, but I just can't do it with Connor. Instead, when Connor turns around, his back to me, I wrap my left arm around his waist, under his pajama top, spreading my hand out so my palm is covering as much of his belly as possible, sliding over his skin. His skin feels so nice! I rub my hand down close to his cock, close enough that my little finger touches his pubes, then up to his chest where I rub his right nipple, which gets hard almost immediately. Connor goes, "Ooh," as I pull him back tight against me, my stiffening dick pointing up, squeezed between his firm, plump buttocks and my belly. He does another quiet, "Oooooh," and adds, "Ahhh, mmmmm," as my right hand comes around to wrap his cock in my fist... I squeeze it a few times before stroking it. Connor begins making a hissing sounds between his lips as he leans back into me forcefully. He's one of those boys who gives off a sexy boyish scent and, with the side of my face against the side of his head, I do a subtle inhale, then a longer one... so nice. His hair's like clean silk, he's totally desirable, but very vulnerable too so I don't want to push things. When we experimented with anal sex, which lasted about a minute, it was spur of the moment, on neutral grounds with Connor desperate for it, and pushing the proceedings along. Here in my bedroom, with him dealing with the loss of his benefactor, I just don't think I should be any more of an aggressor then I'm being.
Stroking Connor's cock slowly, he begins grunting, "Aaahh," with each stroke and moving his feet like he standing barefoot on hot blacktop. The forth stroke produces a watery precum and Connor goes up on his toes, continuing to let out his, "Aaaahhh, oohhh," grunts, and then pushes back forcefully enough that I need to take a step backward. More precum drools over my fist so I let go of his boner and lightly massage his balls with Connor switching to grunts like he's in pain, or ecstasy. His head begins moving against the side of my face as he moans, extremely sexually aroused and excited, and not trying to hide it; actually, his reaction is turning me on big time. When I re-grip his cock it's as hard a boner as I've ever had my fist wrapped around, and it's leaking steadily, "Drip, drip, drip." Peering around his shoulder I see his cock's foreskin stretched shiny tight, looking as if it's ready to split. I haven't seen Connor's cock very often, but this is definitely the longest and hardest one on him I've witnessed... this poor boy is uber horny. My own cock is hard too, but I'm not even close to blowing a load... just feeling real good as I squirm my boner against his ass and rub my chest against his back... it makes me feel good when Connor squirms back against me, and quietly moans, "Oooh, Dylan," as he humps his hips in rhythm with my stroking fist. I don't want to tease him, I know he needs to cum, so I'm stroking faster and tighter, and a minute later, in a strangled-sounding voice, Connor grunts out, "I'm gonna cum, Dylan..." His back then arches away from me, and with the back of his head on my shoulder he thrust his hips out, grunting, "Ah, ah, ah," as two fast thrusts, accompanied by a desperation cry, "Aaahhh, oooh, ahh!" has Connor walking us backwards on his toes, him making a high pitched sound from his throat, one final thrust of his hips produces a short, straight string of cum. It shoots out so fast I almost missed it, another much longer string of cum follows almost immediately as Connor's now making an almost silent airy sound in his throat. This long shot of spunk shoots forcefully from his pecker to silently land three feet away across the bedspread, and it's followed by another much shorter spurt that barely reaches the bed. Connor's shoulders shudder, then his whole body seems to vibrate as I stroke him with my fist tightly gripping his shaft. It's slower going now, I'm milking the last of the creamy boy-spunk from his nuts as precum from my boner rolls off the head of my cock and runs down Connor's buttocks. We're both breathing deeply and the breathinging's pretty much all I hear.
My heart's beating against Connor's back as a late drool of cum from his cock drips onto my fingers, and as he sighs contentedly. The last of his spunk is now running over my fingers to drip onto his scrotum, and then into his pubic hairs as he rolls the back of his head back-and- forth on my shoulder. Letting go of his cock I bring my hand up to his mouth and at first he turns his head away, but I move my fist along with his head and he takes a tentative lick, then another, then he opens his mouth and I stick my cum dripping fingers inside, laying them on his tongue. He moans again, then sucks his own cum off my fingers, and when I take my fingers out and put the back of my hand at his mouth he licks his cum from there... lap, lap, lap, like a cat. After a minute or so I pull my hand away and go back to his still hard cock to stroke it tightly a few more times squeezing out two more drops of cum which I bring to his mouth, and this time he sucks my fingers hungrily. He's back standing flat-footed, leaning into me, docilely content to be where he is. My fingers are cleaned of cum so I take then from his mouth and grip his chin to pull his head around to the side so I can get my lips on his and my tongue goes into his mouth for a sucking kiss before he turns around, chest to chest, and we do a long sexy wet kiss. It's reminiscent of the one we had on campus a few weeks ago. He's still inexperienced at kissing, but learning fast. As our kiss progresses, I feel the beginnings of an orgasm, but know it's not going to happen from this kiss alone and, anyway, I don't want to encourage Connor anymore than I already have, so I gently break away from the kiss, saying, "That was so nice, Connor. You taste good." He can't catch his breath as he gets both arms around me nuzzling in against me tightly, like he's planning on us being like this for a while; or at least hoping for it.
We're like that for maybe fifteen seconds, which seems longer because I'm not sure what I should be doing. To do something that breaks the mood, I get goofy, and ask, "Well, did ya cum yet?" and he politely chuckle at that, then says, "I don't believe so. How can I tell?" With the goofing-off I feel his hold on me loosening. I pat his back casually, like I've seen athletes do a million times, saying, "Dude, if we can somehow get Robby out of the picture... ya know, you and me..." and Connor lets go of me, jokingly asking, "Robby who?" Now we're a tad awkward with each other for a few seconds until I pick up Connor's pajama bottom and hold a leg-opening open for him. He puts a leg through it, and then the other, as I say, "Lets get back in bed, whaddya say?" He grins, and nods his head. I feel a little guilty bringing up Robby's name just when Connor was into his monster hug, but it wasn't just for his benefit... I needed a reality reminder that Robby and I are kinda like steady boyfriends just as much as Connor needed reminding. Well, Robby and I aren't totally steady boyfriends, but most of the time we are. Still, nothing wrong with a little snuggling and after I wipe Connor's cum off the bedspread, that's what we do... snuggle and cuddle in bed. I'm soon cursing myself for not taking our pajama tops off before we got back in bed. We actually doze off at some point and I wake up with Chubby licking my feet. Opening an eye I see Chubby with his hands in his pockets playing with himself, licking the heel of my foot like it's an ice cream cone, then my other foot... feels good, ha ha ha. I do a fake clearing of my throat, and he looks up to see my facial expression, it's like, "What the fuck...?" and he straightens up licking his lips, saying, "Yummy feet, ya got there, bro! And what the fuck are you doing to Connor; how'd you talk him into your bed? You need a bell around your neck so cute boys can hear you coming and run for safety." I'm getting out of bed, mumbling, "What are you talking about? He seduced me!" Connor's awake and blushing now. I explain to Connor, "Chubby has a key to my condo, poor judgement on my part giving it to him, but it's too late now... he's always barging in on me. Connor goes, "Hiya, Chubby..." and Chubby says, "Hi yourself... come on boys, let make a big breakfast; it's almost lunch time, fer christsakes." And that's what we do. Connor knows his way around a kitchen of course, his mother sure as shit isn't going to be cooking for him. Over the next hour a big breakfast is prepared and eaten, with Connor and me still in pajamas, then we get dressed and the three of us head over to the Framingham Mall to check out the latest at the Apple store, and maybe run into some kids we went to high school with so we can brag about how awesome we're doing in college. Connor's got these big eyes for me and I'm silently chastising myself for encouraging him. Then I think, "The poor boy's going in the Army in less then two months... it's okay to mess around a little." Hope I'm right about that... wouldn't it be peachy if once in a while I knew what the fuck I was doing?
We're cruising the crowds at the mall for a mere ten minutes before Chubby bumps into girls from his high school senior homeroom, and they start squealing,. "There's hot boy, Jeffrey Romaro. Hiya, Jeffrey!" and then Chubby's exuberant greeting, "Jeanie! Elizabeth! My two favorite homeroom gigglers. Awesome running into you two!" Connor and I plop ourselves down on a bench next to a couple of retirees 'mall-walkers' to observe how Chubby gets the girls to do constant giggling... this time he's asking some of his dumb oxymoron questions. Chubby asks these things as serious questions, as if he's disturbed by the fact he doesn't know the answers. He's like, "Oh my God, maybe you can help me out, girls." They both know the drill, everyone pretty much knows about Chubby's factoids and riddles. He asks, "Do either of you girls know if it's a good thing to have a vacuum cleaner that sucks? Mom says our vacuum clean sucks, ya know?" The girls snicker, and then one of them says, "It's a good thing to have a sucky vacuum cleaner, Jeffy." He goes, "Really? maybe you know why 'slow down' and 'slow up' mean the same thing? That's not right, is it?" Connor and I roll our eyes, mumbling, "Lame." Chubby flashes the finger at us, with a grin, and the girls giggle... oh brother! AS Chubby's pulling on the heavy girl's ponytail, he saying. "We went to a Red Sox game and I'm wondering why do we sing 'take me out to the ball game' when we're already there?" I'm rolling my eyes at Connor again, but he's grinning now because he likes this kind of corny stuff. When I can't take it any longer, I pull Connor up off the bench and we slowly start walking away as Chubby's waving at us, yelling, "I'll catch up with you guys later, I'm trying to find out why we say things are out of 'whack', I mean, what's a 'whack'?" To Connor, I go, "Do you think Chubby really likes hangin' with the girls more than with us?" He shrugs, as if he doesn't really care one way or the other, and says, "I guess so, or else why does he do it?" I mutter, "Why, indeed?" and we cruise into the Apple store to check out all the latest stuff, none of which either of us can afford.
We're admiring the latest, the iPad 2, when I feel a tap on my back. Turning around and who should I see but Ryan Wicox, the baseball team's main flunky. I didn't know he lived around here, I ask, "You live around here?" and he goes, "Nah, just visiting. Ain't it a bummer Robby's sick? Gad! I get down here about once a year and he has the flu the weekend I'm here." Ryan's horn-rimmed glasses are too big for his face and he needs a haircut badly as his strawberry/blond curly hair is sticking out from under his Merrimack baseball hat in an unruly manner. I ask, "How do you know he has the flu, he didn't get the bug until Friday?" and Ryan says, "Huh, duh? I only talk to him eight times a day, that's how I know. Here's my question for you: why do you always have to be such a prick?" I'm like, "Me? It's you being snippy," and his sexy lips curl up at the corners as he says, "Sorry, let's be friends. I know you and Robby are boyfriends, he's made that clear, but I'm in the picture too so we'll probably be seeing more of each other and Robby wants me to be nice to you." I'm kinda speechless for a second, "Nice to me?" I manage to sputter, "You don't gotta be anything to me ya little turd." And he shrugs, mumbling, "I tried to reach out..." and before either of us can say anything else a woman, probably his mother, yells into the Apple Store, "Ryan! Let's go, you said you'd be a minute..." and he shrugs again, then points at me, saying, "Tell Robby how I tried to be friendly, or I'll tell him myself," and he turns to leave, then turns back with a smirk, "Oh, in case ya didn't know, I'm probably going to the Grand Canyon with his family." That leaves me speechless as Ryan struts out of the store to join his mother, and probably it's his father and sister who are the other two members of their little group... there all have the same strawberry/blond hair anyway. Connor asks, "What's that all about?" I'm shaking my head trying to be cool while processing Ryan's remark about going to the Grand Canyon with Robby. Connor adds, "He's small, isn't he?" meaning Ryan, "But kinda goofy cute, don't ya think?" I'm like, "Huh? Cute? Did you see his ears?" and Connor goes, "Yeah, they remind me of Daniel Bard's ears." I'm like, "Ryan's no Daniel Bard, dude... that guy is beautiful." Daniel is the setup man in the Red Sox bullpen, and just happens to be the cutest set-up man in the majors, but his ears stick out the sides of his head in an exaggerated fashion. Never mind that though, the fucking nerve of that Ryan Wilcox... throwing that Grand Canyon bullshit at me. He's not going to the fuckin' Grand Canyon with anybody! Who's he shittin'? I'm still steaming when Chubby catches-up with us a little later, but by the time we're eating lunch at the food court I've cooled off. I don't want to go into the whole Ryan Wilcox situation so I stop thinking about it and listen to Connor tells us jokes as we eat... it's so good to see his mood greatly improved from last night... that in itself helps me regain a good mood. After the jokes we talk more about Connor joining the Army and he gives some good reasons why it's the right thing for him, and after awhile Chubby and I are comfortable with it... sort of.
On the way back to the pickup, I call Robby; he answers, but he sounds terrible. "You sound terrible, Robby," he coughs and tells me he won't be going out tonight because he feels horrible. I tell him how sorry I am that he's sick, then add, "Oh, by the way, I ran into Wilcox at the mall. He told me to tell you he tried to be friends with me," and Robby sounds apprehensive asking, "How'd that go?" I say, "Not real good, he says he's going to the Grand Canyon with you." Robby coughs, then says, "Bullshit! If he's going to the Grand Canyon it's with somebody besides my family... this is the first I've heard of that." I go, "Just saying..." and Robby sounds a little pissed, "Don't be jealous of Ryan, fer chrissakes. He's okay, but I'm in love with you. Listen, I'm sorry Dylan, but I gotta go. My head aches something wicked, forget Ryan! We talked about this, okay? I love only you." I mumble, "Me too... get well Robby, I miss you." and we click off. Damn, I knew that little snake was lying! I knew it! Ha!
Chubby surprises Connor and me by sticking with us the rest of the afternoon... we watch an afternoon Red Sox game from the west coast and drink Cokes and smoke out on the balcony. Chubby's still hangin' with us through dinner and even joins us at the movies, after which, we hook up with some more guys and girls from our senior class and we all end up at Applebee's buying appetizers and ice teas and bullshitting each other until closing, when we get thrown out. I've mostly forgotten all about Ryan Wilcox by the time Chubby drops Connor and me off at the condo. He's giving a girl named Lolly a ride home. Getting ready for bed, Connor's thanking me, "It's been so awesome to be with normal people, doing normal things, Dylan. I envy you and Chubby and Robby and all your friends who are normal kids. You guys take it for granted, but for me this weekend's like a trip to Disney World... you know, when compared to my regular weekends at home." I don't know how to reply to that, so I stupidly ask, "Do ya wanna mess around?" and thankfully Connor's taking the sensible route this time; he says, "Yes, I do, but I don't feel right doing it with your boyfriend, Robby, sick in bed; it don't seem right somehow." I agree with him, and say, "Yeah, you're right, Connor. Some other time though, fer sure, right?" He smiles and squeezes my arm, mumbling, "I hope so..."
It's nice sleeping with Connor even though my boner prevents me from getting as much sleep as I need. Then, next morning, we shower separately and go up to Chubby's where we prepared Sunday breakfast for us and the moms. There's some talk of attending a Sunday service, since it is Easter, but luckily the moms don't have enough time for that. They make a big fuss over Connor joining the Army, but mostly it's more in the realm of "we're so proud of you, Connor!" and then the moms need to leave for the restaurant to waitress for not one, not two, but three Easter dinner sittings. I call Robby and talk to him a bit, without bringing up Ryan, but he's still too sick to get out of bed. I'm very disappointed about that, but feel bad for Robby too! Connor and I join Chubby on the balcony for a cigarette, and plan our day. Since Robby's sick, I'm in no hurry to get to the Dickers; dinner's at five so that leaves most of the day to do anything we want to do, but we're feeling lazy and decide to read the Sunday paper and lay around messin' with our computers. If you ever want to kill some time, get involved in a racing computer game, 'cause time flies with that! Robby calls later in the day and asks if I'll come over and keep him company. I want to, but I've got Connor with me which would be a little awkward, then fortuitously Chubby unknowingly saves my day. He's talking on his cell as I'm talking to Robby, when, out of the blue, he asks, "Which one of you numbnuts is gonna keep me company?" I'm still on the phone with Robby trying to figure out what we're going to do, so I tell Robby to hold on, and ask Chubby, "Company for what?" and he says, "I gotta run up to Merrimack and pick up something for Sam," Connor says, "Oh, that's great; can I go? I need some stuff from my dorm room." Chubby's like, "Dylan, you wanna come too?" and I say, "No, you guys go ahead, I'll drive over to Robby's and return Dodger's pickup." And that's what we do.
I'm driving Dodger's pickup thinking that Chubby and Robby will have plenty of time to get to Merrimack, and then be back in time for dinner, and maybe I'll get a chance to be with Robby... without mentioning you-know-who, just some positive time with Robby and me alone. Good plan, but when I knock on the backdoor Mrs. Dickers tells me Robby fell back to sleep, and she doesn't want to wake him because his cough kept him up half the night. This is not good! I don't want to be stranded here alone! I'm trying to appear cool looking over my shoulder, wondering if I can drive Dodger's pickup back to my place, but I'm also holding Dodger's keys out toward his mom. It was an unconscious move on my part and she takes them, saying, "Thank you, Dylan. Ah, would you like to watch the Red Sox game with Mr. Dickers? He's in his office." I go, "Huh? Oh, I mean, nah, I don't think so. Ha ha, it's so nice outside, I'll just hang out around out here for a bit if it's okay... I'm good, no problem." She says, "Well, Dodger should be coming along shortly, he'll keep you company." I go, "Thank you, Mrs. Dickers... yeah, Dodger's great." I'm in the driveway lighting a cigarette thinking, "Could this get any more awkward?" but, before I even finish my cigarette Dodger pulls into the driveway in his dad's pickup, parks and jumps out, saying, "Good, you're already here." I say, "That's a strange greeting, ya little nitwit!" Just looking at him gets my balls churning. As I've said many times, Dodger's a younger version of Robby, and I'm into Robby big time! Dodger and Robby are competitive... loving, but very competitive. However, if they're doing some brotherly sex together Dodger's submissive to Robby during the sex play. That changes when it's just me and Dodger messin' around with some sex play; then, he adopts his brother's role as the dominant one between us, and I personally think it's the sexiest thing ever. He's assumed the aggressor role with me from the first time I met him, but in a sweet way; for example, he does it while claiming I'm the coolest, sexiest kid he's ever met... so he covers all his bases pretty well. A very smart, athletic, gorgeous boy. He checks his wristwatch, saying, "Robby called to tell me you'd be here... I was over Vinnie's, but Robby was emphatic about me getting over here." I ask, "Are you sure that's what he said? He's sleeping now." Dodger's like, "Well, he told me he'd have you here, for one thing, and sure enough, here you are, so, come on, we'll go into the cabana, aka the pool house." I'm like, "Say what? Why would I want to go into the pool house?" Dodger says, "It's simple, Robby sorta wants me to service you for him. He knows how horny you get, and I love fucking you anyway, so I get to do you while also doing my big bro a favor." It was all said with a straight face, and naturally I'm laughing, going, "Riiiiigght....." but Dodger maintains a serious expression, "Come on, Dylan... I'll relieve your sexual frustration for you, for the time being anyway, and then Robby should be well enough in a couple of days to take care of you properly himself," and he stares into my eyes with a confident smirk on his cute face, and mischief in his eyes.
Ya know, it's a mystery to me how he does it, but Dodger has this way about him that's very similar to Robby's dominant manner where sex is involved, he's probably copying his idol (Robby), only it seems more 'for real' when Dodger does it, where I get the feeling Robby's more into play-acting at times. Right now, because of Dodger's mannerisms, I've got this dumb expression on my face that I get sometimes, my mouth open and a puzzled frown on my face like I'm dimwitted and can't understand simple instructions. It happens whenever off-the-wall situations arise like this, I mean... Robby wants his brother to 'service me?" come on, get real! I must say that these type bizarre situations seem to arise more often with me then most other boys I know. Dodger ignores my confused expression and holds out his arm, like, "This way," as he walks towards the pool house, and I slowly follow him, as if hypnotized. Inside I look around and notice the blinds are still drawn in the pool house; it isn't used for anything until swimming season. It's obviously very private in here, and both Dodger and Robby are right about me being horny; I haven't had a good fuck in ages! By one of my peers, that is. But still, this is a joke, right? I finally say, "You're not serious, are you, Dodger? I mean, we've messed around together a couple of times before, but it wasn't like a homework assignment, or something. Heh heh heh." The door slams behind me and he clicks the lock on the knob, saying, "Sure I'm serious, don't ya want to make Robby happy? He's only looking out for you, taking care of his boyfriend the best way he can. He's too sick, so he's more or less ordered me, his loyal follower and brother, to service you. Now, drop your drawers and lets get started."
First of all, if Robby's kinda like "out sick for the day", and I gotta admit Dodger makes a great substitute teacher, so ta speak, to keep the metaphor of 'school' going, but I don't want to look like a fool, so I say, "You're gonna need to get a note... do ya got a note from home backing you up on this? Like in school, ya always need a note." Dodger says, "Fuck a whole bunch of notes, and he reaches over to pull my jeans over my slim waist without even unbuttoning them, and says, "Now, get those underpants down," as he unzips his fly. With anybody else in the world I'm probably gonna get really pissed off at this, but I simply can't get mad at this kid, he's too uniquely delicious. Dodger's looking me in the eyes with a grin on his lips, he's so natually good at this, and has had plenty of practice at it bossing Vinnie around. Then, in a whisper, "Please, Dylan... I don't wanna let Robby down," and for the first time I actually give a thought that, as bizarre as it sounds, he might be telling the truth. And, ya know, this is something goofy Robby just might do, thinking he's sacrificing for me... thinking he'll do anything for me, and it flusters me for a second. I stammer, "Um, no... ah, ah... let's just talk to Robby a second, okay, Dodger?" He says, "No, he's sleeping, you just said so, and anyway, that'll make me look like a little kid," and then, unexpectedly, he cups behind my head and pulls it to him, his lips are wet on mine and his awesome tongue is soon on my tongue as both his arms go around my neck. If he held this kiss for a mere minute I'm probably going to cum in my pants, except they're they're down around my ankles. I'm quickly aroused mightily, partially because of this situation, and because Dodger smells like Robby and feels like Robby and because Robby ordered his brother to 'service me!' I almost want to believe it 'cause I love the very thought of it! Who else but Robby would think to do that? Before I can work-up a big enough load of spunk in my balls for an orgasm, Dodger drops his arms from around my neck, and rubs down my sides with the palms of his hands... down to my waist, and then slowly pull my underwear down to my jeans. His hands massage my cock and balls and I make a conscious decision to go along with him... it feels so good having sex with someone cute, who's around my own age, for a change. Jerking Connor off and kissing him, plus all the bodily contact we generated sleeping together, has me more desperate for sexual activities than I'd realized, until now.... and Dodger's so awesome!
I spurt out a breath as Dodger gently squeezes my semi-erect cock smiling right in my face, then he says in a whispery voice, "Thank you, Dylan," as he reaches around and smacks my ass, "Now be a good boy and do what I say!" I'm like, Wha...?" as Dodger continues, "This is how Robby probably wants me to do you; nothing fancy, just fuck an orgasm out of you to relieve the pressure in your nuts. Okay?" I'm trying to be serious, but can't help blurting out a short laugh, while at the same time Dodger has me pretty much turned-on and under his control. Realizing this, I go, "Okay, but you better not be making this shit up or Robby and me are gonna kick your ass." "Sure, sure, now bend forward, hands on your knees and get ready for a thrill." I hesitate doing as he suggests, with Dodger continuing, "As you very well know, I fuck you better than anyone, even Robby, and definitely better than your old boyfriend, Wally." I mumble, "It's Willy," as I'm thinking briefly about Willie's eight inch cock. I'm half boned up already, as I mentioned, and it has a lot to do with Dodger's kiss and general dominant posture, but the thought of Willie fucking me during our upcoming trip to Key West gets me groping myself. A smack on my ass follows, "Whackkk!!" as Dodger repeats himself, "Hands on your knees!" and I quietly go, "Ow..." as I lean forward and put my hands on my knees and wait for what's coming next... cool!
Dodger mumbles, "good," and comes around in front of me putting the side of his forefinger under my chin and then pulls my head up, "Open!" I open my mouth and Dodger's youthful, firmed-up cock slides onto my tongue, back almost to the gag area in my throat, then he slides it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on my tongue. Okay, I'm not saying Dodger's perfect; for example, he isn't as conscientious about cleanliness as Robby, and therefore his crotch is odoriferous, a little offensive, but there's a lot of boyishness to the odor as well, and I'm good with it. He gets my ears between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and pulls my face tight against his crotch, my nose goes through his pubic hairs and is pressed into his belly. My first inclination is to gag because his cock head is now laying on my gag reflex area, and the smell is strong too, but instead of gagging I take a big inhale of Dodger's bodily smell and it fills my head and becomes a plus factor, so I do another inhale as he pulling my head back off his cock using my ears as handles. "Get my balls now." I put two fingers inside his fly and pull out his sack of nuts, being careful they don't scrape on the metal zipper. I love sucking cock as long as it's a boy's cock who's around my own age. Recent experiences have proven to me I need to stay within my own age group for maximum results, and Dodger certainly qualifies as being in my general age group. I'm busy licking his hairless balls, then lapping from under his scrotum, around to the front, then up the four inch shaft of his cock, and finally taking the head into my mouth to suck on it like a lollipop. I'd rather suck a young cock than a lollipop any day of the week, and twice on Sundays. Dodger's cock and balls are replicas of Robby's: pink and perfect and yummy.
Two minutes of sucking and licking causes Dodger's cock to firm-up into a nice hard boner, and he takes it between his fingers then to pull it out of my mouth, accompanying by a slurping wet sound, spit running down my chin. I look up at Dodger who's got his lips tightly together, but they're in the shape of a grin as he begins smearing my saliva from his boner around my face, then a quiet moan slips from his throat as precum drools from his gaping piss slit as he's dragging it across my top lip... without thinking my tongue comes out to lick my lip clean. Dodger huffs out some air, then says, "Robby's so fucking lucky!" I smile, enjoying myself, as he backs away, muttering, "Time for you to get fucked, boy!" and he says it imitating an Army drill instructor. I gulp, and say, "It's Connor who's going in the Army, not me." He's behind me now slapping my ass twice, chuckling, then muttering, "I know, I know... and I think that's kind of cool of Connor. Actually, after high school, I've thought about joining the Army myself." As he's talking, the head of his hard cock and pressing it against the lips of my anus which soon parts them just enough to get the top part of his dripping cock head entering my body, then he pulls it back and rubs it all over my buttocks leaving a trail of precum in it's wake. Dodger takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, before saying, "Whew, this is wicked hot, Dylan... you've got a great ass!" Again the head of his cock parts the lips of my asshole, he hesitates, teasing, then pokes just the head inside me, and I go, "Ahhhh, oh, oh... feels good," wishing I could be more cool about it, but good god almighty it does feels so damn good! Dodger's imitating his brother now, "You're gonna need to ask me for more, Dylan. That's because you argued with me at first, so now you gotta ask me for it." I go, "Come on, ya little prick, do what your brother told you to do." He pushes in a little further, and I need to use all my willpower to stifle a moan of pleasure. "Oh, so now you believe me, huh?" and he's giggling, enjoying teasing me. I go, "Okay, you win... you always win. So here goes, please fuck me, Dodger." and he pushes all the way up inside me and slaps my ass three times with stinging smacks, "Good boy! Robby's got you trained good," and he grabs my hips and fucks me for a minute and I'm soon blowing saliva spray between my lips trying to keep from squealing like a little girl. Oh my, what an awesome fuck, feels just like Robby's fucking me. And, like I said, I've been missing this for days now... which seems like weeks.
A minute of Dodger humping my ass gets my cock so hard it's sick, and it's moved tightly up against my stomach, and all I can think about is how fantastic climaxing is going to feel. My orgasm's building as I hear a cell phone ringing. Dodger stops fucking me, leaving his fat- headed four inch hard boner all the way up my ass and I look back at him as he fumbles his cell phone out of his side pocket, then. "Hello? Oh good, you're here Vinnie. We're in the swimming pool cabana, yeah, the pool house... knock and I'll unlock the door." He clicks off and without an explanation grabs my hips with both hands and begins slamming his cock up my ass; I instantly forget about Vinnie. It's feeling so good I just let my mind go blank except for registering the wonderful sensation of my rectum and cock. Then the knock at the door and Dodger abruptly pulls out of my ass and I can't stop the moan, "Ooooh fuck... oohhh." He slaps my ass, saying, "Stay!" and he walks casually to the door, his hard boner bouncing in front of him. He unlocks the door and in bounds Vinnie De Marco like an excited puppy. Dodger's long-time sex buddy is looking good. Vinnie's almost two years younger than Dodger, who he idolizes. He happily does whatever Dodger tells him to do. Robby mentioned to me a while back that Dodger was at Vinnie's sweet sixteen birthday party and how the boys were almost caught doing 'it' in Vinnie's bedroom. As Vinnie stands there beaming back at Dodger, Dodger gets an arm around Vinnie's neck and pulls his head upward. Vinnie closes his eyes as they do an awesome sexy wet kiss reminding me of the kiss Robby and Dodger laid on each other recently. I reach over and stroke my boner as precum drips onto the tile floor. The thought of not staying in the position Dodger wants me in never enters my mind... I'm lovin' this!
After the kiss Vinnie sort of stands there in a trance as Dodger grips Vinnie's sweat pants at each hip and pulls them, and his underwear, down just under Vinnie's big balls, catching the elastic waist bands under his scrotum, which pulls his nuts up and out a little. "Get in front of Dylan, Vinnie, he'll suck your cock and balls for ya. Go ahead now," and Vinnie's like, "Okay, Dodger." He quickly gets in front of me and does exactly what Dodger did earlier; which is, using the side of his forefinger under my chin he lifts my head, then a stern command, "Open! Tongue out...!" and I almost blow my load right there as I gulp and comply, taking a hand off my knee to stroke my boner a few more times, letting a low, "Ahhhhh..." escape my mouth. This kid's a natural! He's not the cutest boy you'll ever see, but he's looking much better now that his acne's cleared up. He's got an olive complexion, dark hair, cut like Dodgers, which is still in a buzz cut, and nice enough facial feature. Vinnie's short, about Chubby's height, but with a real taut body and an awesome bubble-butt ass, and I'll bet Dodger's wearing it out too. I'd say the sexiest part of Vinnie is his previously mentioned ass, and his mouth with awesome full lips... and his innocence too. I mean, you'd think he'd feel a little self conscious or be unsure of himself being bossy to a guy like me, who's over three years older then him, but he's innocent enough to just do what Dodger says. It's like, to Vinnie... it must be alright if Dodger tells me to do it. And I got no problem with it either, this is fun... good buddy sex, and uber hot too!! Of course, Vinnie might try this act with the wrong gay boy sometime and get his dick tied in a knot for his trouble. His dick, by the way, is a nice one, larger than Dodger's but not as long as mine. It's got the look of newness about it, and as he slides it into my mouth I
notice his crotch scent, which is clean and fresh, a just-showered essence that's very pleasant. Vinnie pushes his soft cock completely into my mouth using Dodger's method of pulling my head onto it by my ears. I chuckle a muffled chuckle at the exactness of Vinnie's moves compared with Dodger's; Dodger must do it to him this way, and Vinnie's apparently quite the conscientious student. He says in his boyish voice, "Suck it good for me, Dylan... oooh, yeah, like that." "Slurp, slurp, slup," I go, sucking that tasty young cock as another, "Mmmmmm," slips from my throat.
Then, forgetting Dodger for the moment, a surprised, "Ooooh!" comes from my throat and slips out around Vinnie's cock as Dodger plugs his boner back up my ass. "Nice job, Vinnie. Feel good?" asks Dodger. "Yeah, awesome, Dodger, but not as good as when you do it... you suck me off best!" Dodger's cell goes off again and, like last time, he leaves his cock up my ass to answer it, "Oh, hi! Yeah, Jordan, same to you, Happy Easter," and he goes into a three minute discussion about school tomorrow. Halfway through his casual discussion he takes out his pack of cigarettes and lights one. They're arguing about who's turn it is to drive to school tomorrow. Even with Dodger's exhaled cigarette smoke circling my head, I'm loving the feeling of being filled-up back there, and especially the way Dodger's absently grabbing and squeezing my ass as he talks on the phone and smokes. In the meantime Vinnie's cock is getting real hard as my spit drool down and off my chin. I love doing it with these two and understand totally why Robby can't give it up with them. I don't blame him. Dodger leans over so Vinnie can have a drag off his cigarette and some of Vinnie's exhaled smoke goes up my nostrils almost like I'd had a drag... nice! I exhale a little smoke around Vinnie's sixteen year old cock, and then inhale for more of his secondhand smoke... awesome! It's just feel-good buddy sex for me, as I said, and it helps that the boys are enjoying themselves so much too. Dodger ends his conversation and puts the cell phone away, then steps on the cigarette butt and grabs both my hips before really pounding my ass for a full minute, then he slows up to take a big breath, asking, "Feel good?" Vinnie says, "Oh yeah!" and I grunt around Vinnie's boner, "Yeauh," then gulp down some of Vinnie's precum. Dodger laughs, and says, "Vinnie, I was asking Dylan, not you." Vinnie mumbles, "Oh, sorry, Dodger," and Dodger chuckles again, saying, "Hell, I can see the look on your face, Vinnie, I know you're good... hahaha!" Like I said, the boys are enjoying themselves, but so am I. I'm in a kind of trance actually, like I often get in when I'm sexually aroused to the degree I am this afternoon. I didn't even realize how much I needed this, but Robby knew, and he's taking care of me. Another minute of pounding his cock up my ass, then Dodger spreads my ass cheeks and starts grinding his cock around up inside me, constantly running over my prostate, and I'm ready to blow, but it's Dodger who grunts out, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!!" and he does too. I feel the squishy, creamy boy-spunk hit up inside my rectum and then another violent hump and he holds it up there pouring more cream up my ass as he's doing a long, "Eeeeeee! Oooohhh, fuck! Oh, oh oh!" then fast humps up my ass with cum splattering out of my hole. A few, "Yahoos" from Dodger, then a giggle as he pulls out, and excitedly says, "Awesome! You get around here now, Vinnie. You can fuck Dylan in my spunk!" Vinnie immediately, and roughly, pulls his boner out of my throat as Dodger's spanking my ass. It's all become too sexually hot for me and a spurt of cum shoots from my cock, as I'm grunting, "Ah ah ah!" before Vinnie rams his boner up my squishy ass and fucks me like there's no tomorrow, splattering more of Dodger's cum all around my asshole and buttocks in the process. Still bending over with my hands on my knees, I don't even need to stroke my cock, Vinnie fucking me o hotly does it for me and I totally loose it doing my embarrassing girlie squeal as cum fire from my boner hitting my neck with the first full blast... then Vinnie and I shoot off together and my ass is filled to overflowing with boy juice as my eyes squint to tight slits and all the stars in the universe come flying towards me from absolute darkness.
For a few seconds I don't even know where I am... it's just one of those perfect orgasms that you can't plan for in advance, they just happen. Everything Dodger, then Vinnie, did since Dodger showed up just hit me the right way getting me perfectly primed for this kind of sexual adventure... all the stars were aligned and the perfect storm of sexual relief resulted. It happens sometimes, seemingly on it's own, and it's a wonderful thing. My vision begins to clear as sensations run from my ass and cock to extend all over me, my toes curl and my shoulders shudder as the chills and shivers bring goose bumps out on my arms. "Oh oh oh," is all I can say, as Dodger is back in front of me again, ordering, "Open up," as he's lifting my chin. I open my mouth and accept his cum dripping, still-hard cock. "Clean him up for me, Dylan," and I suck the cum off his cock, even using the tip of my tongue to get a little inside his pee slit... yum yum! Maybe ninety seconds later Dodger pulls out, saying, "Get your dick cleaned up, Vinnie," and then, in a conversational manner, asks, "How long can you stay, anyway?" Vinnie humps me hard a half dozen more times, then pulls out while slapping my ass, like Dodger did a little while ago. He sounds out of breath when he asks, "What was that, Dodger?" as he slides his sticky cock back up my ass and fucks me a few more time with Dodger laughing. "You're too fucking much, Vinnie... hahaha. I said, get your dick up here and get it cleaned off... and how long can you stay? Maybe we can all go for a second round." Vinnie immediately pulls out of my ass, and I can't keep myself from mumbling, "Ohh no, oh, oh, ahhh," as cum rolls out of my asshole and down my buttocks. Vinnie's around in front of me quickly, he gets a fistful of my hair in front, pulling my head up, ordering, "Open!" and with Dodger chuckling his approval, I open and Vinnie slides his bone hard, cum-and-ass-juice- covered boner into my mouth, mumbling, "I gotta be outta here in twenty minutes, Dodger. We got the whole fucking family over for Easter dinner at four o'clock." With a hand at the back of my head, he holds my head in place as he pushes his boner two inches down my throat, saying to Dodger, "All my fuckin' cousins are coming..." and, as he fucks my throat the boys discuss one of Vinnie's boy cousins, who may or may not be gay. I do swallowing motions on Vinnie's boner and when he pulls it out of my throat, he's muttering, "Ohh, ohh, yeah, Dylan, that's awesome, man!" then he rolls his cock on my tongue and I suck it some more. Dodger's just getting around to pulling up his zipper as his cell goes off again. "It's Robby," he exclaims, "Yo bro! yeah, we just finished and it was awesome! You missed it... too bad!" and he's laughing while listening to whatever Robby's saying. Then, "Okay, we'll be right up after we help Dylan clean-up, he's got cum running down his legs and dripping off his chin. No, I'm not bullshitting you, he does!" Vinnie pulls his cock from my mouth, mumbling, "Thanks, Dylan, that was the best! Dodger's right, you rock!" and he strokes his cock a few times before pulling up his sweat pants and underwear. I feel a little dizzy from all the sensations, my ass is still wide open drooling spunk, but it was like Dodge said, awesome!
Breathing hard, I stand up and follow Vinnie's lead by stroking my super sensitive cock a few times, then the reality hits me; Dodger's right, there's cum on my chin and neck, my own cums running down from my chest to my stomach, cums all over my ass with some of it soaking a wet spot on my underwear and khaki pants. I'm a mess. I go, "Dodger? What the fuck? I can't have dinner like this." He's all action, "We'll get you cleaned-up and I'll get you a pair of my underwear and some pants from Robby. You'll be fine. How was it?" Like his brother, he wants to be complimented on fucking me, but it was superb, so I tell him, "I agree with the consensus, it was awesome, but let's get me put back together. What's Robby say about it just now?" Dodger says, "Oh, nothing really," as he and Vinnie help me out of my pants, then they get a wet towel to wipe me down, then another pool towel to dry me. They do it very conscientiously, not half-assed, and I feel fine except I'm standing here naked from the waist down. My cock's soft again, but still buzzing as I relive the buddy-sex in my head. This time it was me who was the fuckee, but it's not always that way with these two, and anyway, I liked it like this today. Dodger says, "Vinnie, you keep Dylan company while I sneak some clothes down here for him." He wraps my clothes up in a bundle, then goes, "Oops," and takes out my wallet, cigarettes, and a pack of gum from my pockets, "I'll be right back, guys," and off he goes. Vinnie and I look at each other, then look away, finally feeling awkward. I go, "Um, how's school going, Vinnie?" He says, "Good, how 'bout you?" and I mutter, "Good." Then, after another minute of silence, I go, "Ah.. ya want a cigarette?" and we light up feeling uncomfortable because Dodger's our connection to each other, and he's not here. It occurs to me that I've never been alone with Vinnie before. He clears his throat, then plays with himself nervously, as I ask, "You got your own ride yet?" and he says, "Um, no, I just got my drivers license a couple months ago, I've got my mom's Dodge today... it's a hog!" Then we're quietly smoking. This is a perfect example of when a cigarette comes in handy... gives us something to do. Dodger reappears giggling about something, then hands me a pair of jockey shorts, saying, "Remember that time I gave you my bathing suit to wear, the one with the skid marks at the crotch?" I sarcastically go, "Oh yeah, that was wonderful..." and Vinnie laughs, saying, "Dodger don't wipe himself properly." When I'm dressed we head out to visit the sick Robby, with me thinking, "Jeez, I may be a tad over-sexed, but come on... these kids really rock!"
to be continued
donny Mumford thisat20@yahoo.com